


Happy New Year

by Juli



Series: Trouble Magnets [11]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Minds, Grimm (TV), NCIS, Person of Interest (TV), Stargate SG-1, Supernatural, The Losers (2010), The Sentinel, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juli/pseuds/Juli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Trouble Magnets and their Defenders ring in the new year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in January 2012
> 
> Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Tony DiNozzo = NCIS (TV)  
> Jack O’Neill/Daniel Jackson = Stargate SG-1 (TV)  
> Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg = The Sentinel (TV)  
> Ziva David = NCIS (TV)  
> Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester = Supernatural (TV)  
> Damon Salvatore/Stefan Salvatore = The Vampire Diaries (TV)  
> Nick Burkhardt/Eddie Monroe = Grimm (TV)  
> David Rossi/Aaron Hotchner = Criminal Minds (TV)  
> Harold Finch/John Reese = Person of Interest (TV)  
> Jenson/Couger = The Losers (movie)  
> Nick Stokes/Gil Grissom = CSI (TV)  
> Jason Gideon = Criminal Minds (TV)  
> Danny Williams/Steve McGarrett = Hawaii 5-0 (TV)  
> Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard = NCIS (TV)

“I don’t care what anyone else says, this is a bad idea.”

Leroy Jethro Gibbs shot a look at his companion even as he took a gulp of his coffee. Jack O’Neill was not a happy man. “You said that before.”

A third man joined them. “Actually, he said that lots of times before.”

“It’s still a bad idea,” O’Neill repeated. “Even if no one listens to me.” He glared at the newcomer. “Especially those with bat ears.”

Jim Ellison smirked. “You were outvoted. Get over it, princess.”

The three were overlooking the banquet hall where the Trouble Magnet New Year’s Eve party was in full swing. Normally the group had a Christmas party, but this year some of the TMs had lobbied for a New Year’s party instead. The Board of Directors had discussed it and O’Neill had indeed been overruled.

“A party’s a party.” Gibbs shrugged. The holiday gathering was often where the new crop of Trouble Magnet/Defender couples were given an unofficial introduction to the program. As Orientation Chair, Gibbs was marginally in charge of the event.

 

“Are you kidding?” O’Neill rounded on him. “Christmas is cookies, candy canes and Santa. New Years is booze and fireworks. Not a good combination, not with this group.”

“We have a special guest tonight.” Gibbs took another gulp of coffee. “No one’s getting as much as a firecracker past Ziva.”

Ellison nodded in appreciation. “Good. As for booze, no Defender worth his salt will let his TM overindulge.”

“And if they do,” Gibbs added, “then they get to help deal with it.”

O’Neill looked at them both in frustration and, after a few moments, shook his head in disgust. “All right, if you insist, but I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ later.”

“Noted.” Gibbs agreed. He was unusually mellow, mostly because Tony had been one of those TMs wanting a New Year’s party and had rewarded his Defender for his support quite sweetly. At the moment, Tony was wearing a sparkly silver top hat and blowing on a noisemaker. The sight made Gibbs’ restless. He could think of something else he’d rather have Tony’s lips around. 

“All right.” O’Neill sighed and made a visible effort to change the topic. “How are the new guys shaping up?”

Gibbs shook off his daydreams, resolving to fulfill them after the party. There was business at hand. “Not all of them are here yet, but so far, so good.”

The they were using had a large ball room on the main floor, with the second floor above it being open around it like an atrium. The trio of Defenders stood on the second floor, overlooking the party below. Like any gathering, it had groups of people clustered around food and drink stations. There was music that was probably soft to everyone’s ears but Ellison’s and the sound of chatter and laughing could be heard over it. Unlike most parties, this one featured only men, with the notable exception of Ziva. Gibbs could see from his agent’s posture that she was alert to the sign of any funny business that involved even minor explosives.

“See? Midnight’s less than an hour away and no fires have broken out and no one’s dancing on the tables.” Ellison was enjoying needling O’Neill just a little too much. “Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

O’Neill snorted and then pointed. “You speak too soon, bat ears. If that over there isn’t trouble, I don’t know what is.”

Gibbs looked and he could see why O’Neill was concerned. Then again, O’Neill didn’t know what Gibbs did. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” O’Neill sputtered. “That’s the Winchester brothers chatting up the Salvatore brothers. That’s a blood bath waiting to happen.”

“Somebody hasn’t been reading his reports.” Ellison was a little smug. Yeah, he was enjoying giving O’Neill hard time; if he didn’t tone it down, Ellison’s teasing was going to come back and bite him on the ass. 

Gibbs figured it wasn’t in his best interests to let Ellison get too far under O’Neill’s skin. “The Winchesters and the Salvatores have finally realized that they have a lot in common, despite their differences.”

“Yeah?” O’Neill snorted. “I know breathing isn’t something they have in common and that seems to be a big sticking point, at least for Dean.”

“Yup,” Gibbs acknowledged, “but it’s like Army and Navy. There’s a rivalry on the football field, but when push comes to shove, soldiers know we’re all fighting for the same team.”

“Besides, it helps that Dean and Damon both grasped that they’re both almost too pretty to be boys; have a biting sense of humor, no pun intended; and brooding little brothers that are pains in the ass.” Ellison smirked. “Now they’re BFFs.”

Gibbs watched O’Neill’s face as the other man realized what that particular friendship could mean. O’Neill was almost green as he uttered, “Peachy.”

“It’s better than the alternative,” Gibbs told him. “If a Winchester tried to stake a Salvatore, there’d be hell to pay. Literally.”

Ellison nudged him. “This might make things interesting.”

Gibbs took another look at the party floor and saw that Nick Burkhardt had arrived, his Defender in tow. Both the Winchesters and the Salvatores perked up at the sight of the Grimm, but then almost as quickly backed down as Nick’s Defender put a hand to the small of Nick’s back in a relatively subtle marking of his territory. Well, subtle for a bludbad. No doubt Nick would have objected to being pissed on in public and if he didn’t, well, there were some kinks it was best not to talk about.

“I like Nick and Monroe well enough, but why do we have to learn German?” Ellison was frowning, but Gibbs had to admit that he agreed with the sentiment. Having a Grimm amongst their group had brought with it a whole string of new vocabulary. Jim Ellison wasn’t the only one having a hard time adjusting.

“Seriously? It’s the language that’s bothering you?” O’Neill was giving Ellison the stink eye. “And not the whole idea of fairy tales being real?”

Ellison snorted. “So says the man who rides on spaceships with little gray aliens.”

“Stow it, you two.” Gibbs’d finally had enough of the Ellison/O’Neill rivalry for the evening. “Trouble Magnets come in all shapes and sizes. . . and species. I learned that from veteran Defenders like you. You’ll adjust, I know you will.” He paused before bringing out the big guns. “And if I hear anymore from either of you about objecting to a language or a culture. . . . I’ll tell Blair and Danny.”

Both of the other men gulped and Gibbs hid a smirk in his coffee. Like Dean and Damon, Ellison and O’Neill had a lot in common. Namely, Trouble Magnets that were anthropologists and would tear them a new one for any sort of perceived cultural prejudices.

“You’ll be happy to know that the situation with the other new guys we were worried about resolved itself.” Gibbs nodded back to the party, to where another foursome had gathered in a quiet corner. “I’ve asked David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner to be their introductory team.”

“So they figured out which one was the Defender, huh.” O’Neill breathed an obvious sigh of relief. “That’s good. The last thing we need is another pair of undetermined status, like Sam and Dean.”

“Why’d you pick Rossi and Hotchner?” Ellison asked. “That’s a bit odd, don’t you think?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Not really. Hotcher’s a brooder Trouble Magnet and so’s Reese. Rossi will be the best one to advise Finch on how to deal with the special needs of a brooder and Hotch can reassure Reese that being a TM’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“REESE is the Trouble Magnet?” Ellison was clearly shocked, but O’Neill nodded his head thoughtfully.

“It takes all kinds, Jim.” O’Neill used Ellison’s first name, something he rarely did. “There’s more to Defending than the physical. The little guy seems a bit fragile, but something tells me he’s got what it takes.”

Gibbs nodded. “Reese recently got shot and it was Finch who rescued him, just as it’s been Finch that gave John a second chance in life. Harold Finch isn’t cut out of the traditional Defender mold, but I wouldn’t want to go up against him.”

At least, Gibbs wouldn’t want to unless Tim or Abby were available to hack the man’s computer system. Even then, Gibbs thought it would be iffy.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the man who had to tell Reese that he’s a TM.” Ellison looked relieved. 

“Delegation,” O’Neill sounded entirely too smug. “It’s a beautiful thing.”

Gibbs nodded. “Aaron Hotchner was just the man for the job.”

And he was. John Reese was a formidable and downright dangerous man, but as an FBI profiler, Hotchner had faced down worse. Gibbs had too, but he wasn’t a TM. Hotchner could relate to Reese on a level that Gibbs simply wasn’t capable of.

“Hey, everybody, I need your attention!”

The voice came from the party floor and all three men looked down. Tony was in the center of the crowd and he had a microphone in his hand. True, it was a cheap karaoke mike, but Tony wielded it like a pro.

“If you remember, when you came in, you were asked to fill out a resolution form.” Tony had a wad of papers in his other hand and shook it at them. “You were forbidden to use lame ones like ‘I will Defend my lover’ or ‘This year, I’ll keep out of Trouble’ as too easy.”

There was a round of laughter from the crowd. Those were pretty standard yearly resolutions for this group. Tony grinned and Gibbs grinned right along with him. His lover was in his element and his joy was contagious, especially for the man who loved him.

“Now what I’m going to do is read off a few and you guys try and figure out whose resolution it is,” Tony instructed. “Got it? Okay, here we go.”

Tony waggled his eyebrows and made a show of looking at the first paper. “Who wrote this resolution: ‘I resolve not to go to hell in 2012.’”

There was a round of hoots from the room and Tony laughed. “Yeah, that’s an easy one. Everyone has a 50/50 chance of getting it right. Who wrote it, Sam or Dean?”

A multitude of male voices called out one name or the other, but one strong voice shouted “Both!”

“Give that man a cigar,” Tony pointed in the direction of the voice. “They each wrote that one. Let’s try one that’s a little harder: ‘I resolve to always remember my gun and not to let the hot chick shoot me again.’”

“Jensen!” Several voices called out, probably every member of the Losers but one.

“Man!” Gibbs heard the young man in question verbally pout. “That happened like one time, how come all of you know about it?”

Gibbs snorted. Even one incident like that was too many. Had Tony done something like that, Gibbs would’ve had smacked him into tomorrow.

Tony had gone on to the next resolution. “Who wrote this: ‘I resolve that, no matter how many new guys come in, Griss’ll always be boss.’”

A quiet sigh seemed to go around the room. Gil Grissom had given Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders more notice that he was leaving that Jason Gideon had his TMs, but Nicky and Greg still had a hard time dealing with the separation. 

Tony cleared his throat. “On that note, we conclude our New Year resolution portion of our evening.” He looked at his watch. “We have just enough time to introduce a special guest. . . . and then we’ll watch the balls drop.”

There was another round of hoots from the audience and Tony waggled his eyebrows even more enthusiastically. Gibbs knew he had to nip this situation in the bud or it could get out of hand.

“DiNozzo,” he called down to the party floor, in a bellow that was designed to cut through the chatter. “You better be talking about Times Square – and there’s only one ball that’s going to be dropping in public tonight.”

“Awww, Gibbs,” Tony protested, but Gibbs knew it was mostly for show. Tony was well aware that Gibbs would never let him get away with any funny business during a TM party.

It didn’t take but a moment for Tony to get over his disappointment and go back to his audience. “All right, since Gibbs is being a party pooper about the ball action, let me introduce our very special guest – the New Year himself, Mr. 2012!”

Tony made a wide gesture with his hand and the crowd parted. Out of their midst came a short blond man, wearing a pair of white shorts reminiscent of a diaper. He was bare-chested excepted for a sash with 2012 on it – and for the tie around his neck. Despite his odd garb, he didn’t seem self-conscious at all, strolling out of the crowd as though he owned it. The other men applauded and he took a half bow, winking at one audience member in particular.

“How can someone who lives in Hawaii be so pale?” Ellison asked.

“Forget that, what’s with the tie?” O’Neill asked.

Ellison glared at him. “Don’t you remember Blair’s lecture from the convention? There’s more than one kind of uniform.”

O’Neill ignored the dig, instead turning to Gibbs. “I get Danny Williams being the baby New Year, he’s a cocky little shit. But who did you convince to be the outgoing year, Father Time?”

Defenders were frequently older than their Trouble Magnets, something that was sometimes a point of friction. Getting a cute youngster to dress up as the New Year? That would be easy. But getting a more mature man to play Father Time, thus emphasizing age differences, that had taken some creative thinking.

Gibbs smirked. “Invited another special guest.”

“And in the last minutes of 2011, we need to say goodbye to the outgoing year.” Tony said on the party floor. “Come on out, Mr. 2011, and take a well-deserved bow.”

Also entering through the crowd, a robed figure came forth. As he reached the center of the room where Tony was holding court, the newcomer threw back the hood, revealing his identity.

“Ducky!”

Almost everyone there recognized NCIS’ medical examiner, despite the false beard he was wearing. Gibbs didn’t even bother to wonder anymore, how his friend and colleague made so many acquaintances, in so many different walks of life. It was just one of Ducky’s charms.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the depiction of Father Time as a bearded gentleman of advanced years originated from several sources, including the Grim Reaper and Chronos, the Greek god Lord of time in Greek mythology. . . .” Ducky was winding himself up for a lengthy lecture, but a voice from the crowd interrupted him.

“Tony, look at the time!”

Tony turned around and looked at the big screen TV that was mounted behind him. It was on the channel that showed Times Square in New York and the ball was indeed starting its rise.

“WhooHOO! Almost time,” Tony grinned, his eyes immediately finding Gibbs’ own. “Get ready to kiss ‘em if you got ‘em.”

Gibbs didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried towards the stairs, both Ellison and O’Neill right behind him. By the time he’d made it down to the party floor and wound his way through the crowd, it was almost midnight.

“There you are,” Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs as soon as the older man got to him. 

“10 . . .9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . .4 . . . 3 . . .2 . . . 1 . . . Happy New Year!”

Loud cheers could be heard coming from the TV, but the party room was oddly silent. The attendees were doing like Gibbs and Tony, welcoming the new year with a hearty kiss. Gibbs almost moaned as he felt Tony’s lips against his. He’d been proud of the way Tony acted as the ringmaster of the party, but he’d had a visceral reaction to seeing his lover on display in front of so many people. 

Gibbs’ cradled Tony’s head and deepened the kiss. When he finally pulled back, he kept his hand around the back of Tony’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “Happy New Year.”

Tony licked his lips. “Happy New Year.”

For a moment, it was like there were just the two of them, even though the party room was packed. Gibbs hoped the love he felt for his Trouble Magnet showed in his eyes and, from the expression on Tony’s face, figured that it probably did.

B-A-N-G * B-A-N-G * B-A-N-G * B-A-N-G * B-A-N-G

The sound of firecrackers interrupted them. Gibbs growled. Not only was O’Neill going to gloat about this for weeks, but his tender moment had been spoiled. He wasn’t sure which bothered him more.

“Ziva’s gonna be pissed.” A smiled played about Tony’s lips. There was a definite air of mischief about him, although Gibbs doubted that his lover was responsible for the small explosives. 

“Remember where we were.” Gibbs told Tony. “We’ll pick up where we left off.”

“Sure, boss.”

Gibbs reluctantly moved away from Tony, but abruptly turned back and kissed Tony again. “And, DiNozzo, when I get you home alone tonight, we’re definitely gonna see a ball drop.”

Tony’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Satisfied, Gibbs headed to the direction the firecrackers had come from. He’d deal with it quickly, then get back to Tony’s side, where he belonged.

Fireworks or no, 2012 was definitely going to come in with a bang.

~ the end ~


End file.
